


Day 18: Tears

by GemmaRose



Series: Femslash February 2018 [17]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Crying, F/F, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-21 03:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: Anode is having a bad day.





	Day 18: Tears

She’d known that it would hurt for a while when she agreed to the procedure. Frame reconfigurations were notorious for that, though thankfully her modifications had been simple enough she was spared the strut-deep ache that accompanied alt-mode changes. She’d read up on what to expect, but knowing hadn’t made the pain any easier to deal with. Her plating felt too tight, too hot, with a crawling sensation at her transformation seams. It felt like any second now her HUD would flash an alert that something was wrong with her. She hated it.

“Hey there.” Lug pressed a kiss to her cheek, one of the few spots which thankfully _wasn’t_ painfully tender right now.

“Hey.” she managed a soft smile, spark warming in her chest.

“Client finally sent us the map.” Lug held up a tablet with one of the lowest quality maps Anode had ever seen, and considering their line of work that was really saying something.

“Looks like scrap.” she remarked, and Lug nodded with a grimace.

“It really does. But there’s directions and stuff on it, so we should be fine.” she smiled, and Anode gritted her dentae as she returned the expression, shin plating protesting with little tingling shocks when she pushed off the stool.

“What are we waiting for?” she said with a cheer she didn’t even come close to feeling.

Lug stowed the tablet, and Anode was glad the procedure hadn’t touched her hands when her conjunx took one and twined their fingers together. Her forearm, however, was not so lucky, and she yelped when Lug tugged her forwards by the hand. Her leg plating she could ignore easily enough, the alterations there had been minor and she’d more or less gotten used to the sensation by now. Her _arm_ , though, was another story entirely. The internal sparking arced up to her shoulder, and she clenched her jaw to avoid making a sound of pain.

Lug didn’t need to know, she didn’t. If she did, she’d make a big deal about it, and also probably give Anode that absolutely unfair kicked turbofox expression for not having been told right off the bat. The pain shouldn’t last much longer, anyways. A week, at most. After it passed she’d be able to loosen up her field again, hold her conjunx again, live her life again and properly enjoy not having to correct every mech and organic she met on her gender.

She kept quiet as Lug lead them down the path on the map, gritting her teeth against the irregular brushes of tree branches and occasional sprays of loose terrain Lug kicked up. Inside her processor, a pounding ache was growing to match the throb of the rest of her frame. She wouldn’t complain, she wouldn’t. Lug could be annoyingly perceptive at times, she’d probably already figured out that Anode was hiding something just from the extended restraint of her field, and complaining would lead to her figuring this out and worrying over nothing.

“You doing okay?” Lug frowned, helping Anode up over what looked like a chunk of what looked like it had once been a wall.

“Looking forward to getting this done and going back to the ship.” Anode shrugged, doing her best to ignore the ripple of prickling discomfort that spread down her arms at the motion.

“Alright.” Lug’s frown didn’t fade, and Anode lifted a hand to caress her conjunx’s cheek.

“Hey, I’m fine, really.”

“It’s just, you’ve been really quiet since your reconfiguration.” Lug sighed, lifting a hand to rest over Anode’s. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“I know.” Anode smiled, and leaned in to press a quick kiss to the corner of Lug’s lips. Lug grinned when she pulled away, and Anode cried out as a pair of strong, sturdy arms cinched around her waist to lift her off her pedes. Lug dropped her immediately, and she stumbled back with a sharp ex-vent and a hiss of static from her vocaliser.

“Anode!” Lug lurched towards her, and a split second later she realized why as her foot went over the edge of the wall they’d just climbed up on top of. She barely had time to register that she was falling before she hit the ground, and her vocaliser spat more static as she tried to push herself up. Everything _hurt_ ; she could feel each new pit and scrape in her plating as keenly as if it were an actual injury, and the bits of rubble falling to ping off her armour hurt like full power punches.

“You’re definitely _not_ okay, Anode.” Lug cursed, lifting her from the small crater her landing had made in the loose substrate.

“I’m fine.” Anode insisted, vocaliser still heavy with static. “We’ve got a job.”

“We’ll do the job tomorrow.” Lug huffed, shifting Anode closer to her chassis. “Tell the guy we needed time to prepare or something.”

Anode opened her mouth to argue, but wound up spitting static instead when Lug started walking. The drag of crisp edges against her felt like knives scoring her plating, and she shuttered her optics tightly as she buried her face in Lug’s shoulder.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” her conjunx asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Didn’t want to worry you.” she mumbled.

“And you thought keeping your field to yourself wouldn’t?” Lug scoffed, jostling Anode slightly in her arms. A whine slipped out, and Lug swore under her breath. “Sorry, I’ll not do that again.”

“I should’ve told you.” Anode conceded after another few minutes of silence, the edges of Lug’s boxy arms mercifully still against her plating.

“Yeah, you should’ve.” Lug huffed. “What were you thinking, keeping this to yourself? We could’ve found a medic to help you, _I_ could’ve helped you.”

Anode pressed her face harder into Lug’s shoulder, coolant welling up behind her optic shutters. “I’m sorry.” she mumbled, clutching at her conjunx’s plating. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Lug sighed, nuzzling at her helm. “I love you.”

The pooling coolant reached the seam where her upper and lower shutters met, and slid out to trickle down her face.


End file.
